Requiem For The Rap Champion, Sean Price - Chris "Preach" Smith

Photo Credit: ThisIs50.com

My right hook’ll give you a large dent
on the side of your face for fucking with Clark Kent
- Sean Price & Random Axe - “The Karate Kid”

For a great deal of hip-hop fans across the globe, the
news of Sean Price’s sudden passing yesterday morning
hit them in the face like a Snapple bottle. For me, I found
out from one of my boys from back in the day sharing the
news on Facebook just as I got a text from someone who
knew Sean P’s peoples - and as I sent out a tweet calling
BS on Drake being “the hardest in the game” in a chat
related to a popular weekend news program. For the rest
of the day, I sat back and thought about the life of Sean
Price and how his mere presence was the stuff of legend.
I don’t say that lightly. Because when you sit down and
take it apart, we lost one of the greatest MC’s to do it. And
the sad part is, there are those who are coming to that 
realization now as he’s passed on as opposed to riding for
him when he was alive. 

I still remember the first time I ever heard Sean P spit on
that summer ‘hood anthem, “Leflaur Leflah Eshkoshka” as
Ruck, one half of the duo Heltah Skeltah with Rock. The
album itself came out during my freshman year in college,
and was a continuation of the Duck Down dynasty that
had a firm grip on the rap game for over a decade. I still
remember hanging with DJ Stress in the dorms while he
spun the entire Nocturnal album on his turntables after
class ended for the day. Ruck stood out because of the
ferocity of his bars, and the feeling that if it had to go there,
he wouldn’t mind smacking the life out of you after the
cipher. “Sean Price” was both the prologue to the deeper
part of his solo career and a further examination of how 
serious his bars were. But you never lost sight of the fact
that Sean P would bring it to your neck if needed. He was
never far from the streets or the people of Brownsville. A
member of the notorious Decepticons crew turned MC. As
soon as he stepped onto the scene anywhere, you knew
what time it was. I still recall being at a show at Betsy Head
Park years ago, a Duck Down affair that would be the origin
of their annual concert event for the people. Sean P was off
stage, cup in hand, talking trash with folks. One of the blue
jacketed NYPD community officers was trying to get folks to
move along. He decided to grip Sean P on the arm to nudge
him to get on the stage. P whirled around and glared at him.
I swear on a stack of King James Bibles, the officer blanched
and wet himself slightly. Sean just smirked and went off to
perform. It was not only a ‘hood heroic moment but another
anecdote of how larger than life the man was. 

Sean P, visually, was a terror. The kind of dude that on first
glance could make folks shiver. As years went on, he bulked
up, lost the locks and grew a beard that could be rivaled only
later by James Harden of the Houston Rockets. And the heft
to his lyricism went along with it. As rap on the commercial
level became more and more diluted with Southern trap rhythms,
strip club R&B falsettoes and sprinkled with bling, Sean Price
unabashedly remained that dude on the block who could stick
you without a problem on or off the mic. “Don’t Say Shit To
Ruck” remains one of my all time favorite Sean P tracks and
he kept building on the viciousness of it. Sean Price was going
to give you BARS UPON BARS. There’s so many of his tracks
that are quotables in themselves. Think about it - a majority
of his tracks are under 4 minutes. And on the first listen you’d
miss gems like these that begin “STFU 2” off of Mic Tyson:

I don’t know today’s math, don’t keep track of time
universal beat down, beat down your universe
Sean P, AKA You The Worst
the best rapper, the worst rapper
the sket clapper, the purse snatcher
the neck snapper, the Earth slapper
this your man Sean
the opposite of a fucking Duran Duran song 

Bars like that solidified Sean Price as someone many rappers
didn’t want to mess with at their own peril. That battle with
Joe Budden is still fresh on people’s minds eleven years after
the fact. When Sean started dropping adlibs proclaming himself
as Kimbo Price, Mic Tyson, Donkey Sean Jr….no one was gonna
say a damn thing otherwise. Who would be foolish enough to
do that? Not when you’re dealing with someone who can and
could back these lines up:

N***a, I hate you, break you, Ivan Drago
I’m rushing to put pellets in your pecan pronto

Photo Credit: 4umf.com

But within the rugged rhymesayer, was also a really good 
dude. I remember missing out on a concert a while back 
that I was invited to featuring Sean P and other members
of the Duck Down camp. The admission price had a twist -
if you brought an item for Sean’s soon to be born daughter,
you got in for free. Sean Price’s gentle side was greatly 
magnified whenever you saw him with his daughter. Even 
when he was being interviewed at home once, he stopped
and made sure to interact with his daughter. That was one
of many genteel aspects of the man. As tough as he could
be, I’ve known many who always had a good word for how
Sean P would stop and say hello to folks from the neighborhood.
How humble and respectful he was with folks. How he showed
love to many rappers and producers. And we can’t forget the
other side of Sean Price’s charisma - the comedy. I’ve been
to a show of his where he was comically singing Lou Rawls in
the midst of a set. The fact that he freestyled a track in Spanglish
and it wound up being a beloved mixtape offering, “Sabado 
Gigante.” The video he did for “BBQ Sauce” with Pharoahe 
Monch. His appearance on the reality show “Pawn Stars” and
of course, the video where he was literally about to go toe-to-toe
with Hurricane Sandy rocking swim goggles. It all made him 
that beloved figure who railed against the fakes in hip-hop.


It saddens me to write this. Partly because some of the outpouring
should’ve come as to how great he is while he was still here to
bask in it as he should have. Mainly because to a degree, Sean 
Price is a John Henry figure in hip-hop when you get right down
to it. The folklore tale that lives in the Black community speaks
of John Henry as a hardened but proud man who was a “steel-
driver” - a man who drove a steel drill into rock with a hammer
to make way for explosives to blow holes into the rock to create
tunnels for railroad engines. John Henry, as the tale goes, dies
after winning a race against a steam-powered hammer. To me,
in some way, Sean Price’s transition is like that. Here’s an MC
who was spitting pure fire for over 20 years. Yet as time went
on and rap became more commercial and in some ways lost its
essence, Sean P kept on spitting. He refused to change who he
was or how he rhymed. In the process, he built a body of work
that will remain unchallenged and undeniably solid. And passing
on his sleep means the man gave it all that he had to the end.
What more could you ask of anyone who loved to rap as he did?
I spent most of yesterday going through his entire discography from
the Heltah Skeltah days onward. I thought about what he gave to the
culture, how many people his music spoke to. How many that
would shrug at the news and still be caught up in the antics of
contemporary rappers who don’t say very much and aren’t about
as much. Yesterday, a rap champion took his leave. The rap world
shouldn’t ever forget how Sean Price fought hard with his lyrics on
the mic. And how much better we were for it.